


Steady (Indefinite Hiatus)

by Carmailo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, His past, It's gonna be Viktor not Victor, M/M, OR IS THERE, Phichit - Freeform, Spoilers, VictUuri, Victuri, Viktor Nikiforov - Freeform, Vikturi, Yuri on Ice - Freeform, and i dont even know if they're spoilers, and if you don't then maybe I dug too deep to make that connection, edit- i gave up, heh pun not intended, how does it end, i don't have the patience for that, ma boy, more like a scalding burn, not a slow burn, or maybe it will be a slow burn, seriously i have no idea yet, sorry - Freeform, that your lie in april-esque fic we all needed, the summary doesn't tell you anything skip straight to the notes, the tags are meant for tags why am i telling you a story, there is no next time, they don't even meet in the onsen (or do they i haven't decided yet), tune in next time to find out, viktor - Freeform, viktuuri, we don't know yet, you'll get it when you read the prologue, yuuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9923054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmailo/pseuds/Carmailo
Summary: “We should play something together.”“I don’t think our paths will cross again.”“Then we’d better make them cross again, wouldn’t you agree?”“Promise we’ll meet again.”“I promise.”How much of a coincidence is it for two people to save one another in the same accident and still walk away, only for them to cross paths again, to find that they’re struggling with the same thing in the same way?How likely is for two people to mutually find what they’re looking for in one another?How rare is it for them to meet again, under a perfect sky of blues and blacks?Yuuri would have said impossible. Things like that don’t happen in real life. Viktor would have agreed.But it’s a nice thought, they'd tack on.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A story about a violinist and pianist, both in an accident and injured.
> 
> Yuuri thinks he's beyond repair and Viktor refuses to think he may have to give up the piano.
> 
> \----  
> Welcome! I hope you enjoy my story. Please be weary of the tags lol.  
> Sorry if updates are slow!

_E, F sharp, B, A, C sharp, F sharp…._ Yuri thought, miming the fingerings with his left hand, the right holding up his sheet music.

He was struggling to get this piece down. He could play the notes fine, but the feel wasn’t quite right. He sighed. Flipping through the binder, Yuuri found an old favorite; _Shall We Skate_. His best friend, Phichit, from Detroit, had loved the movie it debuted in and had even played the piece at a few exhibitions. Eventually, Phichit forced Yuuri to learn both the melody, violin accompaniment, and piano accompaniment. Yuuri was glad. The song was like an old, comforting friend.

The book slipped from Yuuri’s fingers as his mimed the instrument, body moving with the beat. His eyes shut and the noise around him muted, the melody filtering in from memory.

As he mimed the pizzicato for the chorus, his eyes opened, an acute laugh ringing free from his throat. Yuuri caught the attention of another passenger, a tall man walking through the aisle, with silver hair and bright blue eyes, swimming with thought. Yuuri’s eyes traveled up pale, slender fingers to the arms attached to said man. Yuuri closed his mouth and offered a smile, fingers and arm still moving to the silent song.

If he wasn’t immersed in the music, he’d been flustered by the appearance of such an attractive man. He’d feel badly that he lacked such looks.

The man smiled back, eyes watchful.

Yuuri couldn’t help but make a few noises, _puh_ s and _pah_ s, with the closing notes of the song, freezing as his invisible bow slid to a stop. He was smiling like he did when he was a child - eyes wide and teeth shining.

The man’s smile reached his eyes, just as a sharp metallic clang shook the train.

The unseen violin slipped from Yuuri’s fingers, just as the man lurched forwards and all turned black.


	2. Wake Up

“Yuuko- Oh my God. I mean _oh. My. God._ He’s awake. Yes.” Phichit was saying, phone dimming as it was discarded.

“Where’s that damn button?” He asked, looking frantically for the call button. He slammed when he found it, returning to the cotside.

“Phichit?” Yuuri asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Holy shit, you’re alive.” Phichit rasped, gripping Yuuri’s cheeks in his hands.

“Yeah. Wait. Why? What?” Yuuri asked.

“You don’t remember?”

Yuuri blinked hard. “I was on the train- Phichit.”

Phichit was chewing on his lip nervously. He nodded, encouraging Yuuri. “What happened to the train?”

“I’m sorry, Mister Chulanont, I’m going to need to check our patient’s vitals. Please, take a seat.”

“Sorry.” Phichit said, letting go of Yuuri and setting himself down, knees bouncing.

“Sir. What’s your name?” _The doctor_ , Yuuri thought.

“Ah, Katsuki Yuuri. Sorry. Yuuri Katsuki. Sorry. I’m from Japan, surnames come first there.” Yuuri smiled sheepishly.

“That’s quite alright.” The doctor shone a flashlight in Yuuri’s eyes. “What’s the last thing you recall? And include everything you can remember. Details may help any blanks be filled.”

Yuuri paused, thinking for a moment. “I was on the train, headed for Detroit after a performance. There was no one on the seat beside me. I wanted to work on this piece I'm performing in a week, so I picked up my book and started looking for the sheet music. When I found it I visualized it for a few minutes, over and over again. Once thoroughly frustrated, I flipped to another piece- Shall We Skate. I was playing it like I normally do. I think I laughed and opened my eyes - my eyes were closed before - and saw this man. Then the train crashed?”

“Mmhm…” She wanted more information.

“What did he look like?” Phichit supplied.

“Oh, man, Phichit, he was gorgeous. Like five-eleven with these beautiful blue eyes. His hair was _silver,_ Phichit. I think he plays some instrument, thin fingers and all… played. He’s gone now, isn't he?” Yuuri asked. 

“Well, we can't be sure.” Phichit said, standing again.

“He… threw himself on me. I think he was trying to protect me. Right as I finished up the last notes of Shall We Skate, there was this crashing sound. I saw him teeter, but it was so purposeful, like he was trying to. He landed on me. I think I grabbed him back, maybe ever tried to cover him with my own body.” Tears sparkled in Yuuri’s eyes. Why wasn’t the beautiful man saved?

The doctor looked nervously as Yuuri, brow knit. “The man who landed on you saved your life. You did shield him. It saved his life. But you two suffered a lot of injuries.” Yuuri glanced at his body. 

“What do you mean, injuries?” There were no casts or bandages- just band-aids over tiny scrapes.

“They’ve healed.” Phichit said slowly. 

“Healed... What are- _were_ my injuries?”

“Eight completely fractured fingers- your entire left hand and your right index, middle and ring finger. There were multiple breaks per finger. Further, a torn ligament in your ankle nearly led to an amputation but was narrowly saved. You also broke your left collarbone and two ribs.” Yuuri was hearing so many vital parts of his violinist’s posture.

“Anything else?”

“Two toes, one in either foot.” The doctor concluded, adjusting her glasses.

“Oh. What about the other? The one who tried to save me.” Yuuri asked.

“You took the brunt of the hit since you covered him. His femur was broken and he suffered a fracture to his wrist, as well as several torn muscles in his hands. That’s more than I’m obligated to tell you.” Yuuri exhaled. 

“Thank goodness- that he’s alive. Not about his injuries. Uh… how many... survivors... were there?” Yuuri asked. 

“...two, including you.” The doctor said carefully. “But. The train was only at a small amount of its total occupancy. So… two out of fifty-four total passengers survived.”

“Oh. _Oh._ ” Yuuri choked on his words, tears pooling in his eyes and sliding down his cheeks. Phichit stood and carefully embraced Yuuri. 

“It’s alright, Yuuri. It's okay.” Phichit said comfortingly, patting Yuuri’s back.

“Phichit- can I-... can I see the other guy?” Yuuri asked, looking up Phichit.

“I don't think so. He's already left.” Phichit explained, rubbing circles over Yuuri’s spine.

“But he was so hurt?” Yuuri rasped.

“Yuuri… he’s healed, too.”

“How is it possible that we’re both better so fast?” Yuuri asked, sniffling.

Phichit look taken aback, holding Yuuri at arms length. “Yuuri… you’ve been in a coma for three months.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's been in a coma?!?  
> I apologize in advance for any and all medical troubles I get wrong. I haven't done a lot of research but I'm gonna try and make specific things more accurate lol  
> The only reason the next few chapters are coming quickly is because I've had them finished for a while lol


	3. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap I posted the first chapter like four hours ago and I already have 32 hits, 1 bookmark, 5 kudos and 2 comments
> 
> What did I do to deserve this love
> 
> THANK YOU ALLL *throws love at you*
> 
> Also: If you're an aspiring writer, take this as an incentive to post your work: It's not hard to get noticed, and once you are, there's only one way to go- up! So gather your courage, and post your fics, stories, anything! I believe in you!

“No, Yuri, more like this-” Viktor slid onto the bench next to the small blonde and placed his fingers on the keys.

“One, two, three, four-” His fingers pressed against the keys, producing a magnificent sound. Yuri rolled his eyes. “And then, for bar fifteen, you just reach and hit the C with your pinky-” Viktor’s hand barely stretched the octave before it cramped.

“Jesus.” He said, releasing the instrument and cradling his aching fingers in his other hand.

“What’s wrong, old man?” Yuri asked. He was trying to play off nonchalant, but his concern was evident from the crease in his brow.

“Ah- my hand cramped up.” Viktor said.

“Is it...?”

“Yes. It’s fine.” Viktor nodded, flexing his hand.

“You’ve been doing your physio, right?” Yuri asked sternly.

Viktor smiled at Yuri’s authority. “Of course.” He waved the injured hand dismissively, only to stop when pain spiked in his fingers.

Yuri took Viktor’s hand in both of his, stretching the fingers until Viktor hissed. “Stop that.” Viktor said, pulling his hand away.

“When’s the last time you played a piece like this?” Yuri asked.

“Like this?”

“Difficult. For the average person. This is a breeze for me. I’m having no trouble with it.” Yuri puffed out his chest proudly.

Viktor paused. Every piece he’d played up to this point after the accident had been slow, devoid of such fast movements and long stretches. “When I think about it, not since before the derailment. But I’ve been hitting octaves with little difficulty.”

“But this is more than an octave, stupid.” Yuri chided.

“Show more respect to your elders.” Yakov said, shutting the practice room door behind him.

“How’s it sounding, Viktor?”

Viktor rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Yakov had begged him not to go to America. Viktor insisted; he’d wanted to find a new muse. “Viktor broke his hand.”

“What?” Yakov asked, surprised.

“Yuri, I did not break my hand.”

“You pretty much did.”

“Did not.”

“You’re just mad I told Yakov.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because you think he’s mad at you for leaving Russia.”

“Shut up! The two of you!” Yakov commanded, abruptly bringing an end to the bickering.

Yuri jutted out his chin, trying to look down at Viktor, who was leaning threateningly over the smaller boy. “Vitya. What happened to your hand?” Yakov asked.

Viktor snapped his focus to Yakov, who’d finally used the endearing nickname since after the accident. “I tried to reach across.” Viktor said, gesturing to the piano.

“How far?”

“Ten, eleven keys?” Viktor asked.

“Why would you do that?”

“I was trying to show Yuri how to play the piece.”

Yakov sighed, reaching up to rub his face. “Let me see.” He said, holding out a hand.

Viktor placed his hand into Yakov’s. Yakov shook his head, running his calloused fingertips over the red flesh. “Let’s get some ice on it.” Yakov said.

“Okay.” Viktor said, surprised.

“Yuri!” Yuri snapped to attention. “The piece must sound _perfect_ for the exhibition!”

“Yes, Yakov.” Yuri replied, sitting up straight and turning back to the piano. The notes filled the room as he tried again.

Yakov held the door for Viktor as they left the room. “He’s only doing that because he cares about you.” Yakov began.

Viktor smiled and looked away, shyly watching the floor. “You two are like brothers. At least to him. He wants to be like you- be as good as you.”

Yakov was only feeding Viktor’s ego. Viktor let him. “I’m sorry I took off like that.” Viktor flexed his hand again. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“Your _muse,_ was it?”

“I did.”

“You should have seen Yuri. He blew a good amount on those short-notice plane tickets.”

Viktor stopped walking. Yakov took another step before turning around to face him. “Yakov,” he began.

“Let’s get that iced before it swells and you’re out of commission for even longer.” Yakov said, casting an arm around Viktor’s back.

Both remembered a time Viktor could barely reach Yakov’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No seriously thank you so much. I didn't expect any hits or anything until at least a week in.
> 
> As for this chapter:  
> The two brothers [don't worry Yuri will become Vik's son eventually ;))))))]  
> Yakov and his little boy <3 I live for their father-son like interactions
> 
> Tune in for the next chapter in a about ten minutes! Yay! ((Thanks for sticking with me thus far everyone :) ))


	4. Tag Along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is short!  
> I have no other pre-written chapters but I'll get on them right away! I hope you're enjoying the story so far!

“Phichit, are you being serious?”

Phichit nodded solemnly, clutching the guardrails on the bed. “How long have you been here?” Yuuri asked.

“I’ve been coming here after school everyday. I had you transferred to this hospital, too.”

“How are your grades?” Yuuri asked firmly.

Phichit smiled. “Straight As, nothing less.”

“Oh.” Yuuri said then.

“What?”

“I missed your performance, didn’t I? The big one.”

“Yuuri, it’s okay.” Phichit began. “I had the whole thing taped so you could watch it.”

“Really?” Yuuri asked.

“Of-” Phichit’s sentence was cut short when his phone rang. “It’s for you.” He said, holding the device up for Yuuri.

Yuuri’s eyes lingered on the screen for a moment. _Yuuko Nishigori,_ captioned a picture of the Nishigori triplets. With a shaky finger, Yuuri pressed the _accept_ button. “Phichit! Let us see- Yuuri!” Yuuko’s face filled the screen.

In the corner, Yuuri caught his own reflection. His hair was disheveled and sticking up in different places. Reaching up, he tried to pat it down. “H-hi, Yuuko-san.” He said, smiling sheepishly.

It felt like he’d seen her exactly four years, nine months ago. Not five years. That time had passed too fast. “Yuuko, give the phone to Hiroko!” Yuuri didn’t recognize the voice yelling in the background.

Yuuri’s mother’s face was on the screen next. “Yuuri?” She asked softly, tears in her eyes.

“Hi, mom.” Yuuri said, wincing. Had so many people been so worried?

“Yuuri!” Hiroko burst into tears, hands hovering awkwardly as though she wanted to hug Yuuri.

Yuuri spent a few more minutes greeting his relatives before the doctor, Marie, as they’d come to know her, insisted Yuuri be allowed to rest. “I’ll come home as soon as I’m able.” Yuuri promised, to the great approval of his family.

He pressed the end button and thanked Phichit. There was no way those long distance calls were cheap, especially with Phichit’s low income…

“Now. Rest. I have a surprise for you when you wake up.” Phichit said, pulling the thin covers over Yuuri.

Yuuri watched the roof for moment before drifting off to sleep.

 

“You must’ve pulled it.” Yakov said, holding the ice pack on Viktor’s hand.

“Yakov,” Viktor began, taking the pack into his own hand, “I want an accompanist.”

“You’re a pianist. You _are_ the accompanist.” Yakov joked.

“I’m serious.”

“Then let’s get one. When would you like them to audition?” Yakov asked. He was being very pliant today.

“Never. I want to see them in person and offer them the chance.” Viktor said.

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, or anything!” Yakov joked, a chuckle escaping his lips.

Viktor smiled. “Where should I start?”

Yakov put his hands on his hips. “Why don’t you go with Yura on his next few exhibitions?”

\--

“You want to tag along?” Yuri asked.

Viktor nodded. Yuri heaved a breath. “Fine.”

“Thanks, Yuri!” Viktor said, throwing his arms around Yuri and squeezing. He squeezed a little tighter and leaned close to Yuri’s ear. “Pull that shit again and I _will_ end you.”

Yuri huffed, trying to pry Viktor off of him.. “Whatever, old man.” Viktor let go.

“Aw, love you, too.” Viktor called, already back to being frivolous.

“Just like brothers.” Yakov muttered.


	5. Thank You For The Gift, But I May Never Return.

“Just one more step, Yuuri.” Phichit urged.

Yuuri set his face with determination and let go of the wall. He took a shaky step forward… then another… and another. “Yes, yes, come on, Yuuri, you’re almost there!” Phichit said, moving his arms toward himself in a giant _come here_ movement.

Yuuri’s expression broke and a small smile filtered through. He was walking on his own now, ankles steadying. He wasn’t having trouble, per se, so much as struggling to get his limbs to move the way they were supposed after his three-month nap. “Almost…” Yuuri huffed out.

“Your surprise is right through this door. Come on, Yuuri. You don’t want to keep it waiting!” Phichit insisted.

Scrunching his nose up, Yuuri took his steps faster. If he could reach that door without his legs buckling, he’d be released from the hospital. His mental and physical states had passed all the tests. It was just his physiotherapy that he needed to do. He needed to make progress. And then he’d head back to Japan and show everyone that he’d made it. “Yuuri. Open the door.” Phichit said.

Yuuri looked up. He’d reached the white panel without realizing it. His hand found the handle and he paused. “You promised me my surprise a week ago.”

“There were some complications. But at least now you won’t have to sit in a hospital.” Phichit shrugged. “Now do you want it or not?” Phichit laughed. Yuuri smiled and faced the door again.

He turned the handle and squinted at the person in front of him. “Yuuri!” Minako cried, launching herself at the adult who had reverted to a mere child in front of her. “M-Minako-senpai?” Yuuri asked.

“Thank God. Thank God, thank God.” Minako said in Japanese, arms tight around Yuuri’s back, face buried in his shoulder. She was crying- her shoulders shook.

Yuuri hugged back tentatively. Sniffling, Minako pulled back and wiped a stray tear away. She broke out into a devilish grin. “Welcome back. Oh- I got you something.” Voice thick with unshed tears, she sprung into action and dug through her bag. “Ah-ha!” She said, holding out a case.

Yuuri took it carefully with shaking hands, opening the lid. A pair of blue glasses - not unlike the pair he’d had prior to the accident - were nestled in the box, pristine and unused. Yuuri pulled the frames out and slid them up his nose. “Minako-senpai. I can see again!” Yuuri laughed.

Another drop fell from Minako’s eyes. She looked away sheepishly and remembered the gift bag standing primly next to her own bag. “And this one’s from everyone back home. We figured you’d need a new one here in Detroit. But that isn’t to say you’re not coming back to Japan!” Minako explained, holding the bag out to Yuuri.

Carefully, Yuuri pulled out bunches of blue tissue paper. Inside the bag lay a violin case. Gently, Yuuri pulled it out, and, with the help of Phichit, opened the case. There lay a brand-new violin, freshly lacquered and smelling of wood. Yuuri ran his hand over the velvet casing. There was no way this had been cheap.

“Sorry it took me so long to come out here. It was difficult to find a reasonably priced tick-” Yuuri cut Minako off by gathering her in a hug.

“Thank you. This means more than I can explain.” He said softly, reverting to Japanese, because it was easier when he felt this emotional. “Thank you for coming out here.”

“Anything for my little violinist.” Minako replied, arms tight around Yuuri once more. “Now. You’re coming back to Japan with me. It’s a good thing you woke up when you did, Yuuri. Just in time for the triplets’ birthday party.” Minako ruffled Yuuri’s hair.

“What can I say? You’re too loud to ignore, Minako-senpai. Even if you’re on a plane.” Yuuri said playfully.

Minako swatted at him jokingly, Phichit watching with a smile. He had no idea what they were saying to one another, but his heart swelled at Yuuri returning to normal. He’d been crying a lot, blaming himself for living when the others hadn’t. Phichit could only offer so much comfort. How could he say that he’d rather have Yuuri against all the others without sounding selfish? Because that was what it was; Phichit was selfishly thankful his best friend had made it, despite the fact that so many others didn’t.

“Phichit, come on.” Yuuri urged, grabbing Phichit by the hand. “Minako-senpai, this is Phichit. He’s from Thailand!” Yuuri explained.

“Ah, I’m Minako.” Minako said, pressing out her best english (which was quite well-spoken, especially considering the different exhibitions she’d played at.).

“I’m Phichit. It’s nice to meet you.” Phichit said, shooting Minako a dazzling beam.

“Thailand… I believe I played there once- I’m a pianist.” Minako explained.

Yuuri smiled at the pair getting along. Phichit was already asking his questions that would inevitably lead to a song request. Minako laughed and promised she’d hold a special concert, just for him. Yuuri followed the pair to the desk to check out.

 

Viktor sat at the piano. It was late and he knew he should’ve gone to bed hours ago, but he couldn’t shake the jittery feeling of needing to _compose_. So he’d been seated on the bench, fingers pressing keys and penning them into the staff paper resting on the rack.

_C. No, D sharp. No! Just D._ Viktor couldn’t get this chord quite right. It refused to work.

Frustration overwhelming him, he slammed his hands against the keys. The sound that erupted was horrific and Viktor immediately felt bad for hitting one of the few things he loved. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, hands dragging down his face.

Where had the inspiration gone? Where was the emotion behind every press of a key, every movement accompanying the sound?

Viktor pressed the keys again. He really liked the first four notes he’d chosen - he really did! - but a fifth would tie the sound together. Sighing, Viktor released the keys. He flipped all the way to the beginning of the piece and began.

The sound started almost happy. A few bars in, the majors dropped to minors and reached the depths of the room. The minor chords slid further down the keys, a sound more sad than sinister. _It’s blue_ Viktor thought.

He was playing for a few minutes before he reached the song’s current ending. It was already a slow piece, devoid of happiness. The piece dropped off into nothingness, leaving a sound ringing and a question of _what next?_

All of Viktor’s emotions were in this piece. Every last scrap of a musical inspiration fell into the keys, pouring out of the strings, hammers, and soundboard. He wasn’t sure how much was left to offer.

Viktor got up and lowered the lid on the grand piano. The fall board was slid over the keys and the bench pushed under the keyboard. “I bid you adieu.” Viktor said, patting the piano.

His gaze lingered on the instrument a moment longer before he grabbed his coat and keys. Viktor left the sheets of filled staff paper on the rack, pen holding them in place.

“Adieu, indeed.” He said, pausing in the doorway.

This was the first grand piano Viktor had touched. He’d learned Chopin, Beethoven, Offenbach… all on this piano. It felt wrong to lay a finger on the worn keys when his fingers had no intention of showing his passion. When his heart wasn’t in the piece. When his body didn’t sway to every note, no matter how briefly played.

“I must warn you… I may never return.” He said, back firmly facing the instrument.

Viktor shut the door and locked it with a _thunk_ of resounding finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 4  
> NOW I GOTTA MAKE CHAPTER 5 (unless I decided to write a bokuaka angsty fic like i want to)  
> THANK YOU FOR ALL OF THE APPRECIATION I DON'T DESERVE IT ;-;  
> IF YOU WANT MORE FROM ME I HAVE LIKE THREE ONESHOTS SOMEWHERE ON MY PROFILE  
> thANK YOU FOR READING


	6. It's Been A While... So Come Back?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri returns to Hasetsu for the first time in five years, and gets to reunite with an old friend, while Viktor's career threatens to come to an abrupt stop.

“Hi.” Mari said.

She was wearing her usual clothing, the same outfit she wore when she was working, except with a black jacket pulled over top. “Hi, Mari.” Yuuri replied sheepishly.

They stared at one another a minute, Minako already out the airport doors.

With a grin, Mari threw her arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. Yuuri laughed with his sister, casting an arm around her back. They stayed like that as they walked to the beat-up sedan that would take them to Yu-topia. “Been a while, Yuuri.” Mari said, lifting the trunk open.

“Yeah.” Yuuri nodded. Mari tried to take the bag from Yuuri, but he protested, insisting he’d do it on his own.

“Yuuri, shut up.” Mari said simply, effectively… well, shutting Yuuri up. She grabbed his luggage and placed it in the trunk. “What’re you waiting for, an invitation? Get in the car, Yuuri.” Mari said, ruffling Yuuri’s hair.

Smiling, he got into the vehicle. Katsuki Yuuri was _home._

 

“Hmm… almost. You still need to play with more feeling.” Viktor urged.

“How about the feeling of wanting to die?” Yuri asked.

Viktor laughed airily. “Don’t be so morbid, Yuri!” He said, still letting out that wispy giggle that Yuri so desperately wanted to stab.

Yuri deadpanned. “Why don’t _you_ show me, then?” He challenged, stepping away from the piano.

Viktor eyed it for a split second, faltering, before sitting down. “Fine,” he said, testing the keys.

He glanced at the sheets of music in front of him, meaningless dots on meaningless lines in meaningless patterns. But his fingers were fine-tuned to these empty markings and were playing the notes fluidly, each note coming into existence as though by force. Viktor felt nothing for the dull noises escaping the piano.

Maybe if he kept playing, the right sound might come back.

So he continued. To no avail.

And it got worse. Now, instead of dead tones, the sound was fading completely, giving way to a buzzing in Viktor’s mind. A blur of thoughts, bad thoughts, swirled through his mind.

_I’ll never play again. Not properly, at least. These keys don’t love me anymore. I tried to find a way to win them back, but the train… Now they keys hate me, and my fingers can’t play right anymore._

“Viktor?” Yuri’s voice brought the sound back. “Are you alright?”

Viktor took a shaky breath, head bowed, fingers stopping. “See, like that.” He said, but his voice was small, broken.

Yuri’s hand was on his shoulder then, tentative. “Viktor?”

“It doesn’t sound the same, not anymore.” Viktor said, fingers drooping on the keys, ugly sound bouncing off the walls.

“What are you trying to say?” Yuri asked.

“If I give up the piano, will you hate me?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Would you? Hate me?” Viktor turned around to better face Yuri.

“You _can’t_.” Yuri insisted, fingers tightening on Viktor’s shoulder.

“Would you hate-”

“Yes!” Yuri yelled, hands grabbing Viktor’s shirt and tugging. The acoustics made the sound bounce.

“Then I really am sorry. I’m passing the baton on to you. Represent Russia-” Viktor started, despite the fact that Yuri had pulled him to his feet.

“Shut up!” Yuri shouted, resisting the urge to stomp his foot.

“Yuri-” Yuri was shaking Viktor.

“Just-... shut… up.” Yuri’s head fell forward, excessively long hair brushing Viktor’s chest.

Smirking sadly, Viktor watched Yuri’s shoulders heave with a sigh. “Stop being such a drama queen.” Yuri insisted, giving Viktor a firm shove and stepping back. He reached up to wipe his eye. Viktor pretended not to notice.

 

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri turned around. There stood Yuuko, violin bow in hand. The hairs on it were loosened ridiculously, hanging limply off the rod. “Yuuko-san.” He said, swiveling in the stool.

“Yu-chan is fine.” Yuuko insisted, already on her way to embrace Yuuri.

“Yu-chan.” Yuuri agreed, half-heartedly hugging back.

“I’ve really missed you.” She said, holding Yuuri’s cheek with her free hand.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Yuuri replied.

“Mama! We won’t do it again, promise!” Squealed a child. Perhaps a student?

“Axel, this is the third time in one practice. You’re all doing piano for the next hour.” Yuuko lectured.

_Mama? Axel?... Ah, yes, the triplets. They’ve grown. Or, at least, this one has._ Yuuri mused. “Hey, are you that guy who died but didn’t?”

“Axel!” Yuuko said sharply.

“Sorry. I’m Axel.” The girl said, pointing a thumb at herself.

“I’m Yuuri. Haven’t you grown?” Yuuri asked, shaking hands with the straightforward child.

“That’s what humans do, Yuuri.”

“That’s Mister Katsuki to you, Axel! Now, go practice with your sisters!” Yuuko commanded.

“Okay, mama. Bye, Yuu- _Mister Katsuki._ ” Axel waved, rushing off.

Yuuko sighed. “They’re a handful, the three of them.” She laughed.

“Axel is quite endearing. I’m sure the other two are like that as well.” Yuuri smiled.

Yuuko snorted. “Ha. Endearing. I guess that’s one way to put it. I would say scheming.”

Yuuri smiled in response. “Hey, did you want to play a violin or piano or something?” Yuuko asked.

“I… sure.” Yuuri nodded. He hadn’t played since before the train crash, and his fingers had been itching to an instrument.

His new one was still with Phichit in Detroit. If Yuuri chose to stay in Japan, Phichit would send it over.

“Here,” Yuuko pressed a violin case into Yuuri’s hands. “It’s the one you left behind. You forgot it here, so I kept it here… I guess I thought that if I did, you’d come back.” Yuuko said, blushing sheepishly.

“I’d never leave. Not truly. Hasetsu is my home.” Yuuri said, already inching away to his old practice room.

 

Yuri was still practicing the exhibition piece when Viktor came back that night, bearing Yuri’s favorite type of piroski. “Come on, I’ve brought you dinner.” He’d said, shaking the bag at Yuri.

Yuri had taken it with a quiet thanks and sat on the floor, thoughtfully taking bite after bite. “Are you quitting, for real?”

Viktor smiled. “I haven’t quite decided yet.”

There was a long pause as Yuri reached into the bag for another bun and took a few bites. “Why?” He asked, voice tiny in the room.

Viktor often forgot Yuri was still but a child. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“Because it doesn’t sound right anymore?”

“Yes. Yuri, when you play the piano, what do you hear?”

Yuri paused, chewing thoughtfully.

“What you feel makes your playing unique to you. What I hear sounds unique to me. The way I play sounds different to you, than it does to me. So, Yuri, if you lose your unique sound, what will you have left to work with?” Viktor said.

Yuri rolled the top of the paper bag shut. He unrolled it then, and then raveled it up again. “Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to upload!  
> I've been so busy with so many things omg  
> BUT NOW I'M ON SPRING BREAKKKKKKKKK  
> WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
> So... updates should come more regularity for the next two weeks... hopefully.  
> Thank you for your continued support and love!  
> ~~~Carmailoooooooooooo
> 
> P.S.  
> If you have any asks about my story, just hmu on my Tumblr | carmailo.tumblr.com ♡


	7. Steady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the story title comes into play.

He started slow.

Yuuri perched his bow on the A string, carefully playing. The sound was shaky, struggling with Yuuri’s shaking fingers. He tried again. It sounded better.

Another note. Back to shaky.

Yuuri inhaled deeply. “I can do this.” He mumbled softly.

He poised his fingers for the opening to _Shall We Skate_. The first sound was painful. The next, worse. But still, Yuuri played on.

His bow was sliding all over the place, diagonal across the strings and just _not working_.

The moisture started forming here. In Yuuri’s eyes, making them watery and blurring his vision.

But still, he pressed on. It was almost the chorus now.

Yuuri felt the first drop slide down his cheek and curve over his jaw. Was it sweat? He’d lie to himself and think it was.

The chorus, his bow sweeping over the strings and fingers unable to hit the notes, let alone the vibratos. There was no rhyme or reason the piece as he tried desperately to save it.

 _Play on!_ Yuuri thought, and then he was saying it, louder and louder as his sound grew screechy and _bad_. “Steady. Stay steady!” Yuuri commanded, voice thick and cracking under the pressure of his tears.

The phrase worked better when it was Minako in front of him, playing the piano accompaniment that made Yuuri believe that could do it.

But the he stopped, threw his bow at the wall, and sank to the floor. His vision was clouded by tear upon tear, sobs the closest thing to music in the room.

He’d feared it, yes, but he’d never expected it to actually happen.

Katsuki Yuuri could no longer play his violin.

 

Makkachin dropped his chin in Viktor’s lap. The snow gathered in clumps as it landed on fur, melting and making the dog sneeze. “See, Makka, you should have worn your coat.” Viktor teased, the dog sneezing again.

“Better get you home so you don’t get sick.” Viktor mumbled, scratching Makkachin’s head as he rose.

Makkachin followed curiously, sticking his nose in piles of snow as they made their way down the street. “Makkachin,” Viktor whistled, the poodle bounding in front of Viktor so he was leading.

Makkachin had seen plenty of snow in his lifetime, but it never ceased to amaze him, how these soft, cold, sticky flakes felt against his nose. He wished he could play in it all day. Thus, the dog dropped to the ground and rolled in the snow, nearly tripping Viktor.

“Makka, we have to go inside or you’ll get sick.” Viktor insisted, prodding the dog’s stomach lightly with a cold finger.

Makkachin barked softly, refusing to get up. “Fine, then.” Viktor said, bending over with an exaggerated grunt. “I’m too old for this.” He joked, scooping Makkachin up into his arms.

Makkachin jolted happily, twisting in Viktor’s arms to get more comfortable. “Now, hush, we’re going inside.” Viktor said softly, pushing open the door to his apartment building.

A silence fell over Makkachin as he looked up at Viktor, calm. Viktor placed Makkachin lightly on the ground and attached his leash, as per rule of the building. Makkachin followed obediently as they took the stairs instead of the elevator. “Come on, Makkachin.” Viktor urged, unclipping Makkachin’s leash as they reached the apartment.

Viktor unlocked the door, holding open, and Makkachin bounded inside, panting heavily as he tracked his wet feet and scent through the entrance. “Holdup, mister.” Viktor said, catching Makkachin by the collar and bringing him closer. Kicking off his shoes, Viktor carried Makkachin to the bathroom and set him in the tub. Sighing fondly, Viktor grabbed his hair dryer and began drying Makkachin.

He sighed again. So typical. So inspiration-less.

 

Yuuri blinked at his computer screen. 

_Mister Katsuki, we are very sorry for your accident. As we wish you a speedy, full recovery, we ask that you still attend the exhibition. It’s the least we can do for you commitment to the academy, blah, blah, blah_.

The curators had previously sent a message upon hearing Yuuri waking up, and in response, he’d replied that he could not, in fact, play his violin in his condition. They had replied with a request for him to join them later that month, to watch the performances they would be showcasing.

Yuuri would go, of course.

He wondered if he’d ever play his violin again. At least, properly. It wasn’t just that he hadn’t given himself enough time to heal; Yuuri’s self-doubts had told himself that if he couldn’t play every piece the way he had _before_ the accident, he’d automatically lost all ability to play.

He knew it was silly, he really did, because _of course I need time to recover,_ but his mind was already set. He’d never play a violin properly again.

Yuuri accepted the invitation graciously, promising to attend and speak with the hosts and guests afterwards.

 

Just a few more weeks, now, and Viktor would be heading off with Yuri.

 

Yuuri’s things were packed a few days before he left.

 

Makkachin couldn’t come with Viktor, so Yakov would take care of him until Viktor returned.

 

The plane ride was pleasant, despite it being a long flight from Hasetsu.

 

Viktor thought the venue was nice, as he followed Yuri backstage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I proud of this?  
> No.  
> Why did I make a timeskip?  
> I'm impatient.  
> Disclaimer: I lack knowledge in the whole "competitive" music crowd. My knowledge is limited to Your Lie In April and watching my classmate excel as I struggle to learn "Yuri on Ice" for two months lmao  
> (I can play like the first thirty seconds or smth hot damn)
> 
> Next time: Yuri Plisetsky performs his piece, Viktor is a proud brother, and Yuuri is in awe.


	8. Promise You're Genuine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their paths cross.

Yuuri almost regretting coming.

_Almost._

The people in the foyer were loud, noisily bustling and making conversation. Yuuri bumped into multiple people as he struggled to keep his balance on still-shaky legs. “Mister Katsuki!” Yuuri whipped around. Maybe this person would save him from humiliating himself.

“Ah, hello,” Yuuri stated, turning to face the boy.

He was short, barely reaching Yuuri’s shoulder. “I’m Minami Kenjirou, and I’m your biggest fan!” He said excitedly.

Kenjirou’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Ah, c-calm down. It’s nice to meet you, as well.” Yuuri said, tentatively sticking out a hand for Kenjirou to shake.

Kenjirou’s hand trembled as he reached Yuuri’s, shaking it ferociously. “Katsuki-san, it is such an honor. I love each of your pieces and I’ve been to several of your performances. You’re my inspiration, so please don’t ever stop playing! I know you aren’t going to today, but I can’t wait until the next time you do!” Kenjirou’s words went rapid-fire, Yuuri struggling to keep up. He raised his eyebrows at the honorific.

“Ah, I’m very pleased to have that effect on you, Minami-san. Oh! Please just call me Yuuri. No need for any honorifics, either.” Yuuri said.

Kenjirou looked like he was about to pass out. “I… can call you by… your first name? You can as well!” He said, practically vibrating with excitement. Yuuri was afraid the small boy would begin crying at a moment's notice.

“Yes, of-of course.” Yuuri nodded.

“Kenjirou!” A woman called, waving at the small boy.

Kenjirou whipped around. And then back to Yuuri, “well, I’ve got to go prepare for my performance. You’ll watch, won’t you, Yuuri?”

“Of course, Kenjirou. I wish you the best of luck.” Yuuri replied.

Squealing and red-faced, Kenjirou made his way back to the woman who had called him, Yuuri turning away.

Yuuri was afraid he would have to let Kenjirou down, when he stopped playing.

 

“Help.” Yuri said weakly, slumping in front of Viktor.

Viktor laughed at Yuri, his tie a mangled mess, shirt half tucked and blazer slung over a shoulder. “I _would_ call you a drama queen, but you really do need help.” Viktor joked, pulling off Yuri’s tie.

Once the tie was removed, Viktor noticed Yuri hadn’t even bothered to button his shirt up fully. “Okay, first of all, button your shirt all the way,” Viktor’s fingers moved deftly up to the collar, “secondly, tuck in your shirt.” Viktor shoved the shirt into Yuri’s pants. “Yuri, where is your belt?”

“Here,” Yuri held out a belt to Viktor, “honestly, you’re fifteen, going-on-sixteen. You should be more that able to put on your own belt. And tuck in your shirt. And at the very least, button it properly.” Viktor chided. He still fastened the belt for Yuri.

“And your tie,” Viktor mumbled, flipping up Yuri’s collar and setting the fabric in place, “goes like this. Cross here and loop it over and then you just slide this there, and… tug.” Viktor said, tightening the tie properly.

“I'm sure you can put on your blazer yourself.” He said, giving Yuri a once-over.

“Uh, yeah,” Yuri mumbled, tugging it on, “thanks.”

Viktor smiled in response. “Now smile!” He exclaimed, pulling out his phone to take a selfie.

Yuri cast a lopsided grin as Viktor threw his arm around Yuri’s shoulders and made a peace sign with two fingers. “Oh, Yuri, you look so cute, I have to post this, _right_ now.” Viktor said, already tapping away. “Want me to tag you?”

“I would say no, but everyone needs to know who the attractive person is.” Yuri muttered absently, tugging on his collar.

“Oh, but Yuri, they already know it’s my account.” Viktor said, feigning confusion.

“Old man.” Yuri mumbled, stalking away.

“Yuri! Wait up!” Viktor called, catching up. “Are you nervous?”

“Bah. No.” Yuri said, lacking his usual bite. He looked around as though there were hidden cameras, “...maybe just a little.”

“Don’t worry, Yura! You can do it!” Viktor encouraged, ruffling Yuri’s hair.

“You moron! Now I have to fix it again!” Yuri exclaimed.

“That was fixed?” Viktor laughed, hiding a smirk behind his phone.

“Shut up, Viktor!” Yuri said, stopping in his tracks to glare offensively at Viktor.

“You want some help?” Viktor snickered.

“No!”

“Alright, keep it in the mess you had it in before.”

“Do better, then, old man!” Yuri challenged.

“Okay!” Viktor replied frivolously, more than happy to fix the blonde’s mess of hair.

 

“Yuuri! How _are_ you?”

“I’ve been better, but not too bad.” Yuuri smiled, taking the curator’s extended hand. From it, Celestino pulled Yuuri into a hug.

“That’s good to hear.” He smiled. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you sooner, but I had my exhibitions to take care off.” Celestino let go of Yuuri’s hand and released him, looking shamefully at the ground. “But I always knew you’d pull through!” He exclaimed happily.

“Thanks, Celestino. And I don’t mind at all, I understand how busy you are.” Yuuri smiled.

Celestino fixed Yuuri with a careful look, searching the man’s eyes. "You've gained weight." "Ah, I have-" "It looks healthy. You were too thin before." Celestino said softly, a small smile playing on his lips. A phone began ringing then, and Celestino looked guiltily down at his. “I really have to take this, Yuuri, but it’s so good to see you again. I’ve reserved a booth for you, so just head on up and they’ll direct you to it.” Celestino said, giving Yuuri a final look.

Yuuri felt a flush creep up his neck at the attention. “Oh! Alright, I’ll see you again.” Celestino said, parting with a final hug and disappearing into the crowd.

Finding the stairs, Yuuri went off in search of his seat.

 

“Performers, please come down for final check-in. All performers, please come down for final check-in.”

Yuri adjusted his tie one more time. “You’re _sure_ I look presentable?” He asked.

“Yes, now come on.” Viktor said, already heading to check-in.

“Wait for me.” Yuri called, chasing after Viktor.

He tugged nervously on his collar as they checked-in, and cracked his knuckles as he waited for his turn. When it finally came, Nervous Yuri was shaken off, and Confident Yuri strode to the stage manager, waiting for his cue to head on stage. He sat down at the keys with an air of arrogance, and began to play.

 

Yuuri had never seen a pianist like this before. He was small and blonde, his fingers tiny against the giant keys. There was no way he could hit all the notes properly! But Kenjirou seemed smaller, and he’d had no problem playing his own upbeat tune.

A thunderous chord broke Yuuri from his thoughts. The boy - Yuri something, Yuuri couldn’t quite recall - moved his fingers skillfully up and down the length of the piano, playing an intricate scale. Silence enveloped the hall as Yuri paused, before throwing himself back into the music. His shoulders moved in tune, torso twisting as though it would help the music flow. Yuuri was entranced. The keys and instrument bent to this player’s every will.

And then he was finished. As fast as he’d started, he’d finished.

The blonde bowed appreciatively and then walked to the other side of the stage, leaving the audience to applaud. Yuuri watched an older man greet Yuri and attempt to put his arm around him. Yuri had forcefully refused. 

There were a few more performances after that, lacking in comparison to Yuri’s. 

As the on-stage host brought the event to a close, thanking everyone for attending and announcing the winners of the performance, Yuuri stood from his seat, determined to speak to the small Russian.

Unsurprisingly, he had the highest rating from the judges, with Kenjirou behind, but by a wide margin. As Yuuri wandered through the backstage area, he ran into Kenjirou again. “Ah! Yuuri! Did you see my performance?” Kenjirou asked excitedly.

“I did. It was very lively.” Yuuri nodded proudly. He felt like a mentor or teacher to Kenjirou, proud of his pupil’s success.

“Thank you!” Kenjirou exclaimed with a squeal, sinking back to Japanese with the thrill of speaking to his idol. A moment later Kenjirou fell silent however, much to Yuuri’s surprise.

“Kenjirou?”

“Oh. I just didn’t do as well as that Plisetsky did. I’m very sorry for disappointing you! I’ll do better next time!” Kenjirou exclaimed.

“Kenjirou, it’s alright. You played wonderfully. Plisetsky is won this competition, but that doesn’t mean you have no chances to catch up! Practice and work hard and I’m sure you’ll be able to get closer and closer until you’ve surpassed him.” Yuuri beamed, ruffling Kenjirou’s brightly-colored hair.

He let out a squeal and grabbed his manager. “I want to win!” He exclaimed.

“You can do it, Kenji.” She beamed.

“Let’s go back home and start practicing, right away!” Kenjirou cried, turning to Yuuri. “Thank you so much, Yuuri. It’s such a pleasure to meet you!” Kenjirou’s arms wrapped around Yuuri’s middle with excitement.

“Goodbye, Kenjirou. I wish you the best of luck.” Yuuri smiled wider.

“Bye, Yuuri!” Kenjirou said, already speeding towards the exit.

“I’ve never seen him this riled up. Thank you so much, Mister Katsuki.” Kenjirou’s manager beamed, sliding away to catch up with Kenjirou.

Yuuri beamed at their retreating backs. “Shut up, Viktor.”

Yuuri turned to the pair of voices as they drifted past him. “Aw, why do you have to be so mean?”

“Shut. Up.” The first voice said, teeth gritted.

“Ooh, Yura, Wait here. I have to go do something.” Said the second man, rushing off with his long coat flapping behind him.

Yuuri recognised the original voice to belong to Yuri Plisetsky, who grumbled and leaned against the wall, pulling out his phone. “What do you want?” The Russian asked harshly, shifting his eyes from his phone.

Yuuri was terrified. “Ah, I just wa-wanted to tell you th-that I, uh, found your performance to be very exciting.” Yuuri stammered.

The smaller Yuri looked the taller Yuuri up and down. “Do you play?” He asked.

“Ah, I do. Although I switched to the violin.” Yuuri said, reaching up to rub his index finger against a spot below his cheekbone.

“Did you perform today?” Yuri grumbled.

“Ah- no-”

“Why not?”

Yuuri paused. He stared at the child in front of him before realizing he was taking too long to answer. “I was in an accident, although I was set to originally play here.” Yuuri mumbled.

“So where are you playing next?” Yuri asked, coming across as bothered he had to ask these questions.

“Ah, I’m contemplating quitting-”

“Quitting!?” Yuri asked, voice rising in volume. “You think ‘cause you were in some little accident that you can just quit playing? What’s wrong with you, you fatso piggy?” Yuuri bristled at the comment. His weight had definitely increased during the time he was under a coma; not only had he always gained weight easily, but he’d always needed to exercise to keep himself from gaining a full pound in a single day. No matter how hard he tried, Yuuri just couldn’t seem to drop those few pounds, despite trying to find time to work out everyday, and he was in very poor condition as it was, so his physical therapy was far more important than dropping the extra twelve and a half pounds he’d put on.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that going into a coma for three months qualified as ‘little’.” Yuuri said, cocking his head, callous and cold.

“Was it a train accident?” Yuri asked, suddenly much more curious.

“Yes, it was.” Yuuri sighed, straightening up, because he couldn’t stand to keep up his cold act.

“It’s your fault.” Yuri said, eyes widening.

“My fault.” Yuuri stated back.

“It’s ‘cause of you he can’t… how _dare_ you?” Yuri said.

“...Hello.” came another voice, from right behind Yuuri.

Yuuri turned to face the new arrival. “It’s you.”

 

He’d seen Christophe. That’s why Viktor had gone running off. But the blonde hair and brunette undercut belonged to someone else, and Viktor rushed to return to Yuri. He seemed to be engaged in a heated conversation with someone Viktor didn’t recognize. “Hello,” he said politely.

The man before Viktor made a choked sound as he turned to face Viktor. He recognised the face, he was sure he did, but from where? “It’s you.” The man said, brow drawing tightly together despite his glasses.

And then Viktor recalled: the man from the train. The one he’d so carelessly thrown himself at to protect, the one who had taken majority of the hit and fallen into a coma. Viktor hadn’t known he’d woken up. “You’re- you’re-” He was what? What was Viktor trying to say? “From the train.” He finally settled.

“Yes.” Breathed the man, and for a moment Viktor was taken aback by his attractiveness. Simple, but not blandly so. The commonalities of his appearance seemed to work better than it did on most people, and Viktor felt his breath catch. “You’re okay.” He said, taking a step forward, unsure whether it would be okay to wrap the other in a hug.

“And you seem to be as well, thank God.” Yuuri said, brow still furrowed.

 _When had concern looked so good on anyone?_ Viktor wondered. Giving up, Viktor took a stumbling step forward and hugged the man in front of him. He felt the other stiffen and starting pulling back. “Sorry, I’m just so-”

He stopped when two arms encircled his waist, coming to rest above the small of his back. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Said the smaller, and presumably younger, man underneath Viktor.

Yuri cleared his throat, prompting Viktor to break away from the warmth of the nameless man in front of him. “Ah, how rude of me. I’m Yuuri Katsuki.” Yuuri said, awkwardly sticking out a hand for a shake.

His cheeks were tinged pink, and Viktor wanted to lean closer and touch, to see just how warm the man’s - _Yuuri’s,_ his brain supplied - cheeks really were. A beat passed before Viktor finally remembered to speak. “Viktor Nikiforov, at your service.” He said, bowing extravagantly.

He felt a blush rise to his cheeks at his sudden actions. _What did I just do? Did I just embarrass myself in front of this really cute guy? I’m gonna buy a train and drive it into a wall and die. This is so humiliating,_ Viktor thought, a small giggle cutting through his thoughts and sending his heart into a flip.

A little laugh, so small and quiet and _adorable_ that it could only be described as a giggle, escaped Yuuri’s mouth. Viktor stood upright again, his face still warm. “Ugh. You old people flirting is so gross.” Yuri muttered, stalking away with his eyes trained on his phone.

Both remaining parties’ blushes deepened, although Viktor’s was already pale to begin with. Yuuri was still flushing a few shades of red, sheepishly smiling. “You’ll have to excuse Yura, he’s a bit emotional-”

“I can still hear you, Viktor!” Yelled Yuri, walking faster away while holding his middle finger up, high and proud.

“I’m truly sorry.” Viktor said again.

“No, no, it’s alright.” Yuuri said, giving a tentative smile. His face wasn’t as red now, but his ears were still tinged light pink.

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, unsure of what to say next. “Yuuri-” Viktor began, pausing as Yuuri’s eyes snapping up to his, breath hitching in the smaller man’s chest. “You play the violin, don’t you?” He asked.

Fate had brought them together. Viktor was sure of it.

“Yes,” Yuuri breathed, reaching up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Silence fell again. “I- I don’t- Yuuri, this… Do you think it was sheer coincidence, us running into one another?” Viktor asked, nervously poking his two index fingers together.

“I… I’m not sure what else it could be.” Yuuri said, giving Viktor a nervous smile.

Viktor paused thoughtfully. “I think it’s like fate.” He said, leaning forward as though sharing a secret.

Viktor had leaned into Yuuri’s personal space, but the stars in the taller man’s eyes we contagious, and Yuuri fell victim to the excitement there. “Fate?”

“Yes,” Viktor said, taking each of Yuuri’s hands in one of his own. A light dusting of warmth flared over Yuuri’s cheeks.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, cutting away his fawning, “I really do believe this is an important meeting for both of us.”

Yuuri frowned. “Do you think we’ll never meet again?” He asked, looking down at 

Viktor was thoughtful. He really did want to see Yuuri again. _How can I make sure I see him again?_ “You said you played the violin, right?”

Yuuri's brow furrowed in confusion. “Yes, but I’m not sure I follow where you’re going.”

“Why don’t we play together? I’ll accompany you.” Viktor said, raising their joined hands so that they were positioned in the wide space between one other’s chests.

Yuuri bit his lower lip, averting his eyes. “We should play something together.” Viktor repeated. “I’m sure you’re wonderful at music.”

“I don’t think our paths will cross again.” Yuuri said softly, tentatively making eye contact.

“Then we’d better make them cross again, wouldn’t you agree?” Viktor asked, releasing Yuuri’s hands with a smile.

Yuuri’s bottom lip was between his teeth again, and Viktor couldn’t comprehend the fact that the smaller man didn’t seem to understand the effect he had on people. _So cute…_ Viktor thought. He felt inclined to pinch Yuuri’s cheeks, but also to press a kiss to his lips, pale with the pressure of Yuuri’s teeth.

“Promise we’ll meet again.” Yuuri said suddenly.

“I promise.” Viktor said, eyes lighting up.

Yuuri hovered awkwardly for a moment before pressing forward to wrap his arms around Viktor’s neck. Viktor responded in kind, arms pulling Yuuri close by the waist and crossing at the small of his back. “I really am glad you’re alright,” Yuuri said, pulling back.

He reached up to wipe at his eye, leaving Viktor slightly confused. Was he crying?

A shrill xylophone broke his thoughts however, Yuuri pulling his phone from his pocket to check the call. “Ah, I have to go check out or I’ll miss my flight!” Yuuri said, pressing a button on the screen.

Viktor realized it had been an alarm, not a phone call. Yuuri began to walk away backwards. “I-... Goodbye, Viktor!” He said, speeding up as he turned around and ran off.

Viktor watched his retreating back, sighing. “Are you done yet?” Yuri asked, suddenly beside Viktor.

Viktor wasn’t fazed in the least by Yuri’s appearance. “Yes, unfortunately.” Viktor sighed again.

“Don’t tell me-”

“Yuri, this time it’s for real. I’m gonna marry that boy.” Viktor said, changing his dialect to Russian.

“Viktor, you barely _know_ him.” Yuri said, looking vaguely disgusted.

“I _know_. I can’t really explain it, but I feel like I need to be close to him. I feel like I need to protect, and care for him-” There were so many things Viktor wanted to do with Yuuri, things he didn’t understand the sudden urgency of.

His heart had always been quick to move on and snap to a person for any short amount of time, but now he felt determination well up inside him, determination to search out and see this person again, until they were by one another’s side until the end of times.

“Did you get his number?” Yuri asked, startled to find how genuinely interested Viktor was. He hadn’t seen him like this for years, when he’d first tried out the violin.

Yuri worried that Viktor’s interest would eventually dissipate and leave him empty again, his love interest hurt.

Viktor’s jaw fell open. “How stupid _are_ you?” Yuri groaned. “You’ll never find him again,” he said, dismayed, “and I’ll have to listen to you complain until you _die_. Granted, that isn’t too far off for an old man like you, but still.”

“Yura, I am not even kidding, I am _this_ close to tears.” Viktor said.

“You’re being dramatic. If he was able to get back here he must have some significance. Just search for him online, or something.” Yuri said, knowing that if Viktor did cry, he would be bursting into dramatic and meaningless tears. It would all be fakery that would end in a matter of minutes, but Yuri still didn’t want to have to endure it.

“Yura, you’re a genius!” Viktor exclaimed, grabbing Yuri’s hand with both his own and breaking into a wide smile.

“Psh, I know.” Yuri said proudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry this took so long! I was procrastinating over Spring break, which has now ended (sadness), and then spent the last few days working hard to get this chapter finished.
> 
> The end product is about 3,450 words or something, a short chapter, again.  
> I ensure you that updates will stop taking this long and that they will probably also be longer!
> 
> I'm really sorry - You give me all this support, and I reply by barely getting a chapter done after two weeks??? I'M SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME
> 
> also, the whole Russian squad is a mess of drama kings and queens and you can't convince me otherwise
> 
>  
> 
> and everything between viktor and yuri p is platonic  
>  _very_ platonic


	9. i failed u all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pls read

ok i give up

between exams, stress, personal issues, deadlines....  
i just have no more time.

I'll leave this story up, but I won't update.

I've not only run out of motivation, I also lack inspiration.

On top of this, I didn't do any planning at all for this story, so I kind of just plunged head-first into writing, with a very vague outline (no, seriously. It's less than a page for all my story planning. My AU planning is three bullet points.).

I regret this, if that's unclear.

And _further,_ I have a new AU/fic festering in the depths of my mind. I've already begun planning it and will be writing a detailed outline for each "chapter." Already, the character/AU planning/backgrounds have hit over three and a half pages.

Because I know just how fickle I can be when writing, I've already planned an update schedule and will pre-write a few chapters to make the load easier on myself.

As for my abandoning this writing, I can only say that it was making me unhappy. I made too many mistakes in story details that ruined plot points I had wanted to add.

So really, my quitting on this can be attributed to my lack of planning.

I offer a formal apology for my foolishness in thinking I could write a multi-chapter fictional piece, enjoy writing it, and balance it on top of my average two hours of homework tonight. To make matters worse, I recently encountered a few personal issues, as mentioned above.

I thank you for your understanding and for reading down to here.

**The future?**

I may pick this writing back up in the Summer. I'll see then. In the meanwhile, I'll be planning my current piece. This new story holds all priority in my writing, now, and I'm very excited to start it. Hopefully I'll be able to finish it by mid-July so I can start on another project.

In the meanwhile, you can expect [a few oneshots!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9307385/chapters/21093680)

Thank you for sticking with me thus far!  
Your obedient servant (who really fucked up, my bad, guys), Car-dot-mai


End file.
